


Never Alone

by matomato



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Getting Back Together, Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship, Greg has issue, M/M, Mycroft Has a Goldfish, Mycroft is stubborn, Mycroft-centric, POV Mycroft Holmes, Post-Break Up, Post-Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, Post-Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock is a good brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 07:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14159553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matomato/pseuds/matomato
Summary: This is the continuation toAll Alone





	Never Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OhFuckMystrade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhFuckMystrade/gifts).



It took few hours for Mycroft finally done with his own mind. The glass of scotch in his hand was half full and yet he didn’t have the will to finish it. The politician got up from his chair and looked at the mess that his lover—no former lover had created. He didn’t have the will to clean it, and so he walked out of his study leaving the mess that perhaps what was his heart like that. _Alone protects me_ , he thought as he made his way upstairs to his bedroom.

As Mycroft opened the door to _his_ bedroom the sight almost made his mask cracked. The duvet and pillow were still not made, the bedside table that belongs to Gregory was still occupied with the man’s things. A book, alarm, reading glasses, notebook and his pen. There was a lingering smell of Gregory’s usual cologne and that only brought ache for Mycroft. He scanned the room and eyes stopped when he saw Gregory’s clothes were thrown carelessly over the back of the chair, it was such contrast to how tidy the younger man was. Mycroft closed his eyes a bit, taking a deep breath if people saw him they would think that he was calm and collected and yet his hold on the handle betrayed everything.

Three years of building a relationship with the older man, one year living together and Mycroft thought they had found their balance and yet here he was standing in an empty bedroom that only made his chest hurt. He couldn’t stay in the place, too many memories. And so he made his way to his closet, pulled out few of his suits, he would take the rest later, but right now just enough to survive the night and tomorrow. Once settled he closed the bedroom door behind him, shutting all his memories, and called for his car.

He couldn’t live there, not anymore.

Mycroft was a creature of habit. He had one year to adjust himself living with his Gregory, it was hard at first and yet he managed to make it work. Now, sleeping on an empty bed he couldn’t help himself to reach out to his left side, expecting of warmth body. It frustrated Mycroft when the reality dawned on him. It was hard for him to get to sleep that night, but he forced his eyes to close. If he was hugging the pillow on his left side, no one knew the wiser.

Morning came easier for Mycroft. The current house, belong to his late uncle, was vast difference to the one he and Gregory used to live. He managed to find his own routine although he needed to stop himself from turning on the coffee machine. _There’s no Gregory_. He frowned a bit but then quickly moved on from it. No one said that Mycroft was a slow learner, he would eventually find his balance again, despite being alone.

One thing that Mycroft knew would be constant in his life was his work. Despite he was in a relationship or alone, the work was always there waiting for him. It was easy to throw himself in it. No one could tell the difference, except for Anthea. The woman gave him a questioning look that Mycroft ignored. He knew she cared for him to some extent but there was no reason to tell her about what had happened. He was planning to keep quiet until around lunchtime that Anthea walked in with a file.

Mycroft only gave her a quick glance but then he stopped when he saw the grim expression. _This will be a long day now_ , he thought.

“What have they done now?” He asked mind already searching which troublesome politician or world leader he needed to blame for making his life difficult.

“I should be asking you that, sir.” Anthea’s voice was tensed as if she was holding herself back.

Mycroft raised a brow at her, not knowing what she was implying, “If I recalled, I haven’t done anything today except all these paperwork.” He gestured at the files on his desk.

“I wasn’t talking about that. Security had notified that Detective Inspector Lestrade had left the house with suitcase and boxes from the house.” Mycroft could hear the why in that statement and yet he didn’t know how to respond. There was a small part of him that wished Gregory wasn’t serious, that it was just the emotion, but he knew this would happen.

“I need you to grade down Inspector Lestrade’s security detail and changed the house security code. Also, send a cleaning staff to the house and moving crew, I’m moving to the Galliard house so send security there.”

The order was enough to send the message to Anthea. Everything was over.

“Mycroft…” The gentle voice from Anthea was enough to harden Mycroft’s resolve and he looked back to the paper in front of him, “You have your order, Anthea.”

It was few seconds of Anthea stood front of his desk, possibly waiting for him to change the order. But Mycroft had decided on things and this was what going to happen. He would close the chapter and continued with his life, everything returns to normal, just like how his brother never disappeared.

Days passed and it turned into weeks. Mycroft already came with a new routine of his life although he didn’t monitor his brother as much as before. He left that job to the security team, only to report when the consulting detective was in danger. Mycroft didn’t even try to contact Scotland Yard, if before he would gladly come over there or make a call himself when he needed to take over a case, now he left that job to his minion. He had moved his primary office to the underground one. It helped him to focus on his work and not be distracted. If his current office managed to scare few diplomats and politicians it was a plus point.

Mycroft was sitting in his home cinema, eyes fixed on the scene that was happening and yet his mind traveled to the conversation that he had with his brother a week ago. He was not sure if 2 years of dismantling Moriarty’s network gave Sherlock a new perceptive on how he saw people or his own mask was starting to break.

_It was a simple game of deduction and yet Mycroft could feel Sherlock’s concern and judgment eyes on him. He tried not to squirm._

_“He’s different – so what? Why would he mind? You’re quite right.”_

_It took few seconds for Mycroft to finally register what his brother was saying and what the look for. He could only part his mouth in disbelief, blinked few times. There was no way his brother suggesting that…_

_“…I’m not lonely, Sherlock.” Even his voice sounded weak for his own ear and he could see that Sherlock caught on that. He moved closer deducing his big brother and Mycroft stood on his grown. He was not going to break._

_“How would you know?” It was a rhetorical question, Sherlock had at least deduced something regarding his personal life and in Sherlock’s own twisted way the detective was concerned, wanting to be sure his brother was alright. Not isolating himself._

Mycroft sighed when he remembered the encounter. Now that he had time to think about it, somehow his brother managed to find out that he was in a relationship, especially with the question about goldfish but he had broken things off. Hence the question,

_“Are you alright?”_

The unspoken question and yet it was there. The looked, on the other hand, had been a concern from Sherlock to him.

_“Please don’t be alone. Don’t lock yourself.”_

He wasn’t sure how his brother managed to convey those words into a single look but it was there and it frustrated Mycroft. He was fine. He wasn’t alone. He didn’t need a goldfish, he was fine on his own. Mycroft sighed as he rubbed his forehead before he focused back on the film again.

 _Alone protects me_.

 

Weeks turned into months and Mycroft had been working more efficient than before. He didn’t concern himself with little things, he didn’t drop call to John or Lestrade to check if his brother was alright. He didn’t even check the surveillance anymore unless it was important. He had lived again as a ghost, just like before he had started everything with Lestrade. No longer Gregory in his mind.

He had been taking care of himself more, he picked up running to relieve his stress for him not to start thinking if anything could be changed. He ran when his mind started wandering toward the door that had been locked for a few months now, he ran when he was haunted by memories. He knew running would never make those memories or feeling stop haunting him he could try.

Mycroft had just finished his lap when he heard his phone went off. He looked at the caller and tried to calm his breathing.

“Yes, what, Sherlock?”

“Why are your out of breath?” Mycroft tried not to huff when he heard the question, he just went to straighten his back and calm his breathing.

“Filing”

“Either I’ve caught you in compromising position or you’ve been working out again. I favor the latter.”

Mycroft could hear the slight pressure on them again and the unsaid words on the last four words. He closed his eyes and tried not to sigh. He wasn’t in the mood to be in this discussion with Sherlock, he could tell what the younger man about to say.

“What do you want?”

“I need your answer, Mycroft, as a matter of urgency.”

“ _Answer_?” Mycroft mind rushed to many scenarios. Sherlock had been asking many unsaid questions toward him everytime they met. It was getting irritating despite he loved his brother dearly.

 _“You love him.”_ _It was as much as a question as a statement from the tilt of Sherlock’s head. The younger man didn’t need to utter any word and yet it made Mycroft sighed._

_“Why?” Another one this time the two were sitting across each other and Mycroft saw the little frown directed at him. Why. He was not sure he had the answer for that so he stayed quiet._

_“Don’t you want to see him?” The question was asked when Sherlock handed him Mary and John’s wedding invitation. There was the intense gaze. Mycroft could only sigh and thanking his brother verbally_.

“Even at the eleventh hour it’s not too late you know.” _You still have the chance, come._

“Oh, Lord.” Mycroft sighed and closed his eyes

“Cars can be ordered, private jets commandeered.” _Come. He is here. You should be here._

“Today. It’s today, isn’t it? No, Sherlock, I will not be coming to the “night do,” as you so poetically put it” Mycroft explained. _I can’t and I’m not going._

“What a shame…” _Why are you stubborn_ “…Mary and John will be extremely d…”

“…Delighted not to have me hanging around” _It was for the best I’m not there. Especially for him_.

“Oh, I don’t know. There should always be a specter at the feast.” _He would be delighted. Just come_.

Mycroft wasn’t sure if his brother was pulling a joke on him or he actually thought that coming to the wedding would be the best for all, especially for Lestrade. He hadn’t seen the man for three months, no contacts, not even the usual meeting regarding Sherlock’s progress. It was like Mycroft ceased to disappear from Lestrade’s life. And so, Mycroft changed the topic regarding Sherlock’s speech. It was cruel but still better than they continued to discuss his relationship to the Inspector. It was over.

It was over. He believed he had got pass everything. Control every emotion or sentiments regarding the older man and yet when he met Lestrade front of Sherlock’s operating room three months later, it was like a bucket of cold water had been poured over him. Mycroft halted on his steps and just stood there, staring at the man.

There were no words to describe what he was feeling when he saw Lestrade again. After all these months he could tell the changes from the older man. The man had lost few pounds, cut his hair differently, dropped smoking and moved to nicotine patches. All this information just got into his brain and he felt overwhelmed. He could tell Lestrade hadn’t been sleeping properly because of a case, he could tell the man had changed his soap and cologne into something almost similar to what he wore. Probably he had started running again. The skin was more tanned, a smell of sun tingled along the new cologne.

Longing. It was the one emotion Mycroft registered. It brought ache back on his chest and he just clenched his umbrella’s tighter.

“My..- Mr. Holmes.” It had been so long since Mycroft had heard that rough deep voice. It made his grip went bit tighter as he kept his face neutral. _Do not break_.

“Inspector.” When Mycroft greeted back he was sure he saw a flash of hurt on those brown eyes, but he might have imagined things. _Sentiment_.

“Sherlock…” The older man bit his lower lip before he glanced at the operating door then back at the politician “…still operating. They entered 30 minutes ago and still no new. I have dispatched a team to find the shooter. We even asked Magnussen about it but the man said he didn’t remember much.” There was frustration in Lestrade’s voice as he explained himself.

“So I’ve heard. Magnussen never really known to share something if he knew. Thank you for you and your team work.” Mycroft stated before he glanced at the door where his brother was.

“Are you planning to press charges, Mr Holmes?” The question caught Mycroft off-guard as he quickly looked back at Lestrade.

“You are the only one that kind say something if we should continue the investigation or not, remembering Sherlock was still in operation.”

That’s true. Mycroft frowned a bit as he mulled over it. He somehow could point at his finger on who was responsible but knowing his brother he probably just dropped the charges.

“No. On behalf of my brother I would not press any charges, if the Scotland Yard want to pursue the investigation I won’t hold them back.”

Lestrade gave him one long look before he nodded and averted his gaze from Mycroft. Somehow the moment of them waiting for Sherlock to survive the operation was something that they had been done years ago. When their lives weren’t so weary and that they were still younger. And yet here they were, waiting for Sherlock to survive another operation.

Another two hours before they got the all clear, despite Sherlock managed to go flat line in the middle of the operation, but now he was alright safely transferred into a room. Both Mycroft and Lestrade thanked the doctor when the man excused himself.

Mycroft started to walk, already pulled out his phone, needed to start finding the one responsible although it wouldn’t be so hard when Lestrade called for him.

“Mr Holmes!” Mycroft stopped and turned to face the older man.

“I…” Mycroft raised his brow a bit waiting for the man continued. “I just wanted to know if you’re alright?”

 

“Pardon?”

“This whole Sherlock shooting business, I’m sure you would not just stand quietly regarding the shooter. Hell, you probably already know who did it.” The man started and it surprised Mycroft yet again that Lestrade still could read him well enough “Just... I want to know you’re alright and if you need any help…-“

“I will contact you.” Mycroft ended the sentences for the older man. It was their old pattern. If you needed anything, please call. It was the very reason why they got involved together. And it was always Lestrade who offered it first.

“Thank you for your concern, Inspector, but I can assure you I’m fine” Lestrade looked at him with those brown doubting eyes, not believing what he had just said but then the older man just nodded.

“Just call if you need anything. I’m serious.”

 

Mycroft nodded his head and gave a tight smile, “Again thank you Inspector.”

 

“It’s Greg or Gregory.” Lestrade – no Gregory, said just before Mycroft started to walk away and it was returned with a small nod.

“Gregory.”

With that Mycroft was off to his car. He had to find the shooter and he didn’t want to mull over what had just happened between him and the inspector. No overthinking regarding their conversation. It was just as it is. The man offering a hand of help, but then why?

There were so many questions on the back of his head even when he was interrogating the shooter. A woman that should have been dead years ago. A ghost that was not supposed to be in the world of the living. A threat and a deal, before he released the woman back to the society.

Horse and Protection or a Pure Rose. A name that somehow suited and at the same time ironic for the woman. Not a pure life she had lead. Mycroft sighed as he returned to his office to return to his works. He kept monitoring of Sherlock’s recovery. Even dropped by few times. Everytime he showed, the detective gave him a huff.

“I told you not to interfere.”

“I don’t listen to you, Mycroft.”

“Honestly… the least you can do is not get shot.” Sherlock huffed and glared before he gave a good look at his older brother.

“You found… her then.”

“Of course. Do you think I will let your shooter roaming the city without at least a threat?” The politician raised his brow and Sherlock just groaned.

“I have plan so just get your big nose away from this matter.” Sherlock said even dared to poke at his brother’s nose before he settled back against his pillow.

Mycroft blinked few times before he looked at his brother and raised his brow, but then there was a small smile before it was wiped away.

“You should talk to him.” Sherlock started after few minutes of comfortable silence.

“Him?”

“Lestrade.” Mycroft tried not to roll his eyes at the suggestion. It was almost 8 months now since they had been separated, 6 since Sherlock had pieced things together and yet the younger man didn’t stop himself from suggesting that he and Lestrade need to talk.

“I did talk to him when you were in operation. I think that is sufficient.” Sherlock huffed when he heard that.

“I was talking about more than that, brother mine. Just _talk_ or do I need to deduce everything so you can open your eyes and sees what’s right in front of you?” Sherlock asked, challenging his brother.

It made Mycroft went silence for few minutes.

“I know what happen, a bit of it. John told me.” It made Mycroft tensed when he heard his brother, his gripped his umbrella tighter.

“Lestrade talked to John about things… especially you and then when I started to have suspicious I asked John and he told me. Honestly brother mine, you should have seen it. He was miserable, _is_ miserable.”

“If you know what happened then you should know talking to him won’t help him at all Sherlock.” It was not a hissed or a frustrated tone from Mycroft. No, he was calm, he was sure, but the look on Sherlock’s face told him otherwise.

After all these months. He had tried. He had moved on. He had locked everything up. Solitude had been his life companion.

“And if you had been that smart like you claimed to be you will know that he was miserable without you. Your relationship was frustrating that’s true, but it was mostly because of the situation. You were trying to keep me alive, making sure everything working according to the plan and he was under investigation. His work ethics had been questioned until I was pardoned. He had issue, Mycroft and he sought helped. You had your own problem and you went back to the old mechanism, shutting yourself off.”

Mycroft was stunned when he listened to his brother talking. He was not sure if his younger brother had become more mature or the morphine just too high that Sherlock became so sentimental and talking nonsense like this.

“And no before you accused the morphine is influencing me, it’s not. I have been trying to tell you this all these months. Show you stuff and yet you are stubborn! You have seen the man and I’m sure you have come up with the same deduction as me if you want to drop all the doubts and subjective view. You will come up with the same conclusion as me, brother mine.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he looked at his older brother again, his blue eyes were soft this time. Looking at his brother with kindness and care.

“Just talk to him. Properly. Please, Mycie.” The pleading and the nickname caught Mycroft. He never heard his brother pleaded or use the nickname. It made him feel like his throat about to clog up and he didn’t know what to do.

“..Why?” His voice sounded small when he managed to utter the word. His grip was still tight on his handle and he felt like a child, scared about doing things.

“I saw you with him before I jumped. He makes you happy Mycroft and vice versa. You two are good for each other. Give yourself a chance Mycroft, don’t make the same mistake as I did.” Sherlock had reached to put his hand over his brother’s, the one holding the umbrella. He carefully eased the tight grip to relax the politician.

“Just talk. Promise me, you will talk.” Sherlock said as he looked at his brother’s eyes, waiting for the confirmation and there was a small nod. It was enough.

Mycroft was sure his soul had left him in that hospital room. He couldn’t focus fully on his works as his mind just kept replying Sherlock’s words. Could he be wrong, regarding what he saw that night when he met Lestrade – Gregory, again. He leaned back against his chair, put both palms pressed together on front of his chin and let his mind ran all over the whole situation. Put away the doubts and subjective view. This was him analyzing everything.

He needed answer and if it took hours to come up with the right conclusion so be it.

It didn’t take that long for Mycroft to come up with the most probable conclusion and somehow he needed to thank his brother. He had missed all the signs, it was there screaming at him and yet he didn’t see it because he was sure Gregory, it was definitely Gregory, wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him again.

Now, matter of how he should reach Gregory. He was never the one to do it first, it was always Gregory who was leading and yet at this moment he was sure he should be the one to reach out. Making amends toward the older man. Rome wasn’t built in one night and nor did this.

Mycroft sighed when he stared at his phone, wondered if he should call or text, but it was late. The man probably asleep or still working, depended with his schedule. It was weird that Mycroft no longer knew what Gregory had been doing, this would be him re-learning Gregory again and this time he wanted to do it right.

Just when Mycroft about to grab his phone, ignoring the beeping on his laptop, the door to his office opened, revealing Anthea. He looked up at her with questioning eyes.

“Inspector Lestrade is here sir. He said it was emergency.” Mycroft wasn’t sure if it was the universe trying to play trick on him, but then again it’s never lazy. He took a deep breath and nodded, gesturing for Anthea to let the man in.

“I’m sorry.. I don’t want to intrude but…-“ Mycroft widened his eyes a bit when he saw the agitation on Gregory’s body language. Something was wrong.

“Sherlock?” He asked and Gregory just nodded at his question.

“He was missing from his hospital room, no one saw him walking out and we already checked the security camera.”

Mycroft frowned and quickly opened another window on his phone and typed up codes to inform his team before he looked up the spots they usually found Sherlock when he was missing.

“The usual place?” He asked and Greg shook his head.

“Went there already but no one saw him. Everyone is looking around too, but so far no news.”

 

“Everyone?”

“John, Mary and I. I asked Anderson to keep an eye too. I tried to ask his homeless network but so far no one has see him.” Gregory explained and Mycroft’s eyes twitched a bit when he mentioned Mary, that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Try the blind greenhouse in Kew Gardens and the leaning tomb in Hampstead Cemetery.” Greg nodded and still stood there when Mycroft without his knowing waved his away but split seconds later stopped himself. Eyes wide in horror.

It was the one thing Gregory used to get angry at him, how sometimes Mycroft could forget who he was talking to and just waved people off. And here he was, sitting down wanting to make amends to Gregory and the first thing he did was waved the man off.

 _Oh God_ . Mycroft thought with horror as he looked at his hand still upon mid-air. Honestly. He couldn't believe he just did _that_.

When Mycroft was still chastising himself in his own mind, grumbling on how stupid he was. Gregory chuckled lightly and looking at him amused.

“I would never guess you can look so horrified over a gesture.” That was definitely an amused look and a teasing tone from the older man. Mycroft as not sure about what’s happening anymore.

“What?”

“You waving me off then seconds later looking like you just accidentally launched a nuclear.” Gregory pointed at Mycroft’s hand that still in mid-air and it drew flushed on the younger man he quickly pulled down.

“I..I apologize I didn’t mean to wave you off. Truly.”

“I know. It just… months ago you wouldn’t notice that you had made a mistake but now…” He opened his palm to show up his point, “Look at you…”

“Gregory…”

“I know it’s not the time but… I just want you know I changed too Mycroft. I saw you changed, well Sherlock told me anyway because we didn’t see each other anymore” The inspector shrugged but there was an easy smile on his face. Mycroft didn’t know how this man could speak so easily regarding emotions like this.

“And I saw you in that hospital room. Christ. You changed and I would lie if I wouldn’t admit that I missed you.” Mycroft was sure his heart had stopped beating. This was supposed to be him making amends first and yet here Gregory was, surprising him yet again.

“I was not in good place. I tried to help myself after what happened with us and I started to see that I put all my frustration on our relationship, on you. For that I’m sorry.”

The two men stared at each other for few seconds, taking the opportunity to look at one another. Properly. Seeing each other in new light and Mycroft was sure that the door he had locked all those months ago start to unlock. How could he lie to himself that he had stopped loving this man.

“I… I should be the one apologizing. I kept everything from you, I know it was for your own safety but I still wished it could have end differently. I have never wish to hurt you and make you doubt yourself or my.. love for you. I care for you. All those years, there wasn’t any lie, not about my feelings toward you.”

Mycroft hoped his voice didn’t waver, but he could tell that there was a hint of desperation somewhere in that sentence. He wanted Gregory to believe him, that he cared for the man. Gregory stood there and gave him a soft smile. The smile that Mycroft knew only ever been given to him.

“I know. Sherlock did explain things to me and I was.. harsh on judging you like that. You know I can be.” Gregory took few steps closer toward his desk and yet those brown eyes never leave his blue ones. Hand in his pockets.

“You have every right to get angry…” Mycroft muttered and it just made Gregory smiled again. Oh how he missed that smile.

“There are lot of things we need to talk about…” Mycroft nodded, quickly agreeing with Gregory and was about to offer time, “…but all this debacle with Sherlock is done. Once he is safe you and I will need long talk Mycroft. Civilized..”

“Agree.”

Gregory smiled again after a bit of serious look regarding the need of serious talk between the two of them. No shouting, no arguing, just talk. A start.

“I miss you My..”

“I…” Mycroft closed his eyes before he looked up at Gregory again, making sure the older man could see all the longing in his eyes. “I do too, so much Gregory.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that had been bugging me since last night and decided to write it down. Had OhFuckMystrade help to check with the story and so here you go!


End file.
